March is not my favorite month.
Far from it, in fact. Some of the worst things that have happened to me happened in March, and it was just four years ago that I had a shocking and painful loss when a close friend died unexpectedly.
Brandt Heatherington was a fraternity brother of mine from Sigma Phi Epsilon at George Mason University, although our time at GMU didn’t coincide or overlap. In fact, his first semester of college was the one right after my last semester. We mostly got to know each other through alumni activities and Facebook.
It was March 1, 2020, when I signed onto Facebook and came across a post from someone in my fraternity that Brandt had died. The last time I had seen him in person was October 2017 when for the one and only time I had played in our chapter’s alumni golf tournament.
He and I had both served as president of the chapter a few years apart in the 1980s, and he had stayed in Northern Virginia and been active in the alumni group. I never lived closer than 300 miles away after 1981 and except for Founders Day dinners in 1985 and 2010, I never made it back before 2017.
But I got to know Brandt and indeed formed a close friendship with him through Facebook. We had the fraternity in common and a lot of the same political views. It isn’t easy to form true friendships in the second half of your life, but I actually made another friend on another continent with someone I met through Brandt.
My dad died in March 2008, although he was 82 and had been ill for a long time. I lost my favorite job I ever had unexpectedly in March 2001, and my first wife hit me with her desire for a divorce on March 31st 45 years ago.
Ironically, there are a number of people I care about who have birthdays in March — my wife Nicole, one of my oldest friends and one of my sisters. I even believed when I was young that my own birthday was in March, but that’s another story.
I still miss Brandt and I probably always will.
At least March only lasts 31 days.